


Joke Shops and Restaurant Shenanigans

by GayStuckyShipper



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bartender Natasha, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Shop Owner Steve, chef bucky, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayStuckyShipper/pseuds/GayStuckyShipper
Summary: Steve Rogers likes to think he has his life together. He has his own business (a joke shop), a good circle of friends (two, at the last count), and a stable life (read: uneventful). Cue one Bucky Barnes to royally usurp all that. Such fun!





	1. A Spark

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be for the Stucky Big Bang, but I missed the deadline, so here it is. My first multichapter fic, as well as my first AU, so any and all comments and advice are greatly received! Enjoy!

  “STEVE!!!” Wanda’s voice wafts up from the store downstairs, “Time to start working!”  
  I heave myself off the sofa, grabbing my jacket as I go. I slip my shoes on at the door, then head downstairs.  
  It’s ideal really, living above the shop. Minimal commute, and I’m always on hand for emergencies. My inner lazy college student would be proud.  
  As always, Wanda is already behind the counter, pen in hand making a to-do list. Her dark brown hair with red highlights is in a loose bun, and she, even this early, looks full of the vigour of life. We met in college, hit it off instantly. When I decided to open a store, she was the first person I turned to to help manage it.  
  “Do you always have to be so …” I falter, as I struggle to find the word.  
  “Motivated?” She supplies.  
  “I was thinking more ‘nauseating’, but sure.” I give the store a quick sweep-round, making sure all the stock is in order and the labels are showing.  
  “Anyway, this isn’t like you, you normally bound down those stairs like you’re on fire. What gives?” Wanda’s accent lilts over the words.  
  “Sorry, yes. Next door.” I indicate over my shoulder in the general direction of the shop next door. Someone was moving in, and there was a lot of drilling and banging at all hours.  
  “Oh, you poor thing.” She frowns at me sympathetically.  
  “Oh, it’s hopeless Wanda. What if I want to bring someone home?” I didn’t get a chance to finish my lament, as Wanda snorted inelegantly into her tea.  
  “You? Bring someone home? Please. Stevie, I love you. But you have as much chance of bringing someone home as there is the man of my dreams walking through that door at some point today.”  
  “Well that’s just insulting!” I act mock-offended, placing a hand over my heart and blinking dramatically. “I could bring someone home. I am a mature, adult man, who is in full   control of his life.” I’m really not. “I can prove it, by successfully flirting with the first person through that door.”  
  “Well that’s not going to happen if the door isn’t unlocked.” She motions over to the door. I go over and turn the key, before retreating expectantly to behind the counter. Nothing happens for about ten minutes, then footsteps can be heard outside.  
  “Just you watch. I will be cool and suave.” I turn to Wanda, winking. Nice word, ‘suave’. Very suave.  
  The door flings open.  
  “Hello dearie!”  
  “MOTHER!” I turn away from her, shutting my eyes.  
  “Well now I feel very much loved.” I turn back around to face her, definitely not noticing Wanda’s barely concealed laughter.  
  “Sorry mum, how are you?” I lean over the counter and hug her.  
  “Well, I was in a good mood before my only son, my pride and joy-”  
  “We get the point, mum.”  
  “Well, I just thought I’d pop in to see how the shop was doing.” I doubt it.  
  “Mum.” I stare at her pointedly. She holds my stare, mouth slightly twitching.  
  “Are you seeing anyone?”  
  “Mother!” I gasp in exasperation.  
  “Well, I never give up hope.Must dash, I only popped in before tennis.” She shrugs and walks away. Before leaving, she turns around and calls out to me. “You really must come round for dinner soon.” She breezes through the door, and it swings shut behind her.  
  Finally, Wanda breaks, her shrill laughter filling the room.  
  “It’s not that funny.” I huff indignantly.  
  “Oh, I know. But you have to see the funny side of it.” She concedes, rubbing my arm.  
  “I really don’t. What’s so funny about me being incapable of functioning as an adult? Mum doesn’t help, constantly setting me up on dates with her friends’ children. It’s like she doesn’t think I’m capable of it myself.” I sigh, deflating into the stool behind me. I misjudge it, falling to the floor in an inelegant pile.  
  “Yeah, I can’t imagine why she’d think that.” Wanda smiles kindly down at me. “C’mon, you great lump, up you get.” She hold out an arm, which I grab and haul myself up. I brush myself down, unruffling my clothes.  
  The rest of the day passed without much incidence. A steady stream of customers came and went (more than you’d expect for a novelty gift shop), and it was a decent day, takings-wise.  
  Near the end of the day, as custom was beginning to die down and I was doing a crossword in the paper, the bell above the door jangled. Me and Wanda looked up, and our jaws dropped simultaneously.  
  “Future husband.” Wanda breathe. Not if I got in there first. The sex god swaggers over to the counter. He smiles. _Oh god, take me now!_ His dark brown, shoulder length hair frames his sharp jaw and gorgeous face perfectly. A veritable wall of muscle and sinew is clearly visible beneath his stained white, short-sleeved t-shirt. He stands just a little shorter than me, but a lot broader.  
  “Hi.” He says.  
  “Hi.” We both parrot back.  
  “I’m looking for the owner. Where are they?” He asks, holding his hand out.  
  “I’m Wa-” I push her off her stool, onto the floor.  
  “Steve. Steve Rogers. Owner of Kicks and Giggles Novelty Gift Store. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” Oh _no_!  
  “Bucky. Pleasure to meet you, too.” Our hands touch, and _christ_! His palm is warm and firm and, oh no, I’m shaking his hand for too long, it’s getting weird. I let go with a small noise, halfway between a whimper and a giggle.  
  “Anyway, sorry about all the noise next door, we’re completely refitting the whole thing.” Of course he’s one of the builders. Just look at him!  
  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve barely noticed anything!” I smile at him, and the smile I get in return is just another thing in the long line of beautiful things about this man. The edges of his light grey eyes crinkle, and he even has a chin dimple!  
  “Oh really, that’s great. Anyway, I came here to give you these,” he holds out a pair of what seem to be tickets, “a free drink at the grand opening, for you and a plus-one.” He smiles.  
  “Free?” Wanda pops up from the floor. Typical.  
  “Yeah, the boss reckons it’s good to make a nice first impression on the local businesses.”  
  “Oh, absolutely. I remember the opening of this place. D’you remember it, Wanda? It was a great success.” It really wasn’t. Practically no-one turned up, and those that did got drenched after one too many candles on the celebratory cake set off the sprinklers. They still cross the street to avoid me.  
  Wanda coughs beside me pointedly. I slap her arm.  
  Next door, something crashes. Bucky’s eyes go wide.  
  “Sorry, I should go and see what’s up. But I can count on you two to be there right?” I nod at him, and he turns to leave.  
  _Jesus fuck!_ Sonnets could be written about that ass clad in his dark jeans. The bell above the door jingles, snapping me out of my ass-centred reverie. I collapse onto the stool, thankfully not missing it this time.  
  “Holy shit!” I turn to Wanda, whose face probably mirrors my own.  
  “Yeah.”  
  “Have you ever seen such a perfect specimen of humanity? It’s all I could do to stop myself just saying ‘TAKE ME!’” I pretend-fan myself.  
  “Steady on, Stevie. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”  
  “He’s going to be my proof to mum that I can be a mature adult.”  
  "You don’t mean-”  
  "Oh yes, I am going to woo him tonight at this grand opening. He will be wooed, and I will be the wooer.” I’ve said ‘woo’ too much now, it’s stopped being a proper word.


	2. An Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets ready for the opening, and sets out to find his man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter. I'm really enjoying this fic, so I hope you enjoy reading it!

At five on the dot, I dismiss Wanda to get ready herself, close the shop, and head up to my apartment.  
Right, the opening is at six, which gives me an hour to get ready. Operation Woo is go.  
First, I shower. You may not think it, but working in a joke shop all day is pretty tiring. Deliveries at all hours. Cleaning up displays. Oh, your child knocked over the stinkbombs? No problem.  
Once I’ve showered, I lay out all my nice clothes. Button downs, polo shirts, jeans, the lot. I can never decide what to wear on a normal day, let alone for an occasion. Truth be told, I’m still getting used to my new physique.  
Seriously, you go back about six months, you’d find a 5’ 6” skinny twig of a man. Three months ago, I get selected for this government treatment. Works wonders. I shoot up half a foot, gain about 50 lb of muscle practically overnight. It was hell for about a week, but eventually, and with regular exercise and weight training, I’ve got used to it. Mostly. I’m still horrendously clumsy, forgetting I’ve got an extra six inches of height, or pretty much the same in width.  
So, completely lost at sea, I call up the proverbial lighthouse.  
“Ah, my beautiful rățușcă. Welcome to the social hotline. My name is Wanda, how may I be of assistance?”  
I cringe at the nickname, while also smiling at the warmth innate in its meaning.  
“I have no idea what to wear tonight. I need help.” I beg.  
“Aww, no problem darling. Wear the jeans that make your ass look like a soccer ball.” She enthuses through the line. I slap my hand against my forehead. I do wish she wouldn’t objectify me like that.  
“Any description of colour or make would be marvellous.” I snark.  
“Erm, blue bootcut, I think.”  
“So helpful. Now, shirt.”  
“Umm, the blue and green checked one. It says ‘I’m fun, but also really great in bed.’”  
“How can a shirt say all that?” Seriously, the things this girl comes out with.  
“It’s not the shirt, it’s what it does to the body beneath it.” She sounds so wise when she’s spouting rubbish.  
“Fine. I’ll take your advice. You better not be wrong.” I warn.  
“When am I ever wrong?” I raise one eyebrow, as if she can see me.  
“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.”  
“Goodbye Wand.”  
“That’s right, fairy godsister.”  
I hang up the phone, turning once again to my bed. The other downside of a late development, complete social illiteracy. I pick up the clothes Wanda decided on, putting them up against my body. The shirt does bring out my eyes, I guess. Well, it better do the job of wooing Bucky tonight. It really is now or never. A quick look at my watch indicates that I only have ten minutes to get dressed.  
I unwrap the towel from around me, taking only a moment to look at myself in the mirror. Objectively I know I’m attractive, I just can’t get my head around the fact that it’s me.  
Still, no time for dwelling on life and such. I jump into my jeans and throw the shirt on, buttoning it up as I walk through the apartment, locating things like my phone and wallet, as well as my free drink token.  
I run back into the bathroom, taking some wax from the pot on the counter. I style my hair into that swept back look that Wanda assures me is cool and trendy. With one last look in the mirror by the front door while grabbing my keys, I leave down the stairs.  
When I get out the front of the store, I am met by a small crowd of people outside the next door restaurant.  
Under the awning is a small table with canapes on. The young man letting people in at the door is wearing a white t-shirt, black blazer and dark jeans. I join the queue, and look around for Wanda.  
It’s only when I’m the next to go in that the vibrant red highlights of my friend and colleague join me.  
“Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t we?” I whisper to her.  
“Well, we can’t all have the privilege of living literally next door.”  
“I know, it’s very convenient, isn’t it? Rather serendipitous, don’tcha think?”  
“Hush yourself. I’m being very magnanimous in allowing you to have someone who I was very certain would be married to me within a year.”  
“Oh, how very magnanimous of you.” I repeat, with complete sarcasm.  
“Very magnanimous.” She repeats, being utterly genuine.  
“Sir, madam, you may now enter. Please enjoy your evening.” The waiter at the door says, before moving aside to let us pass.  
We go through the door, arm in arm and enter onto a very rustic, cosy restaurant. The high ceiling has fake beams running across it, and chandeliers hang down periodically. The walls are wood-panelled halfway up, and the rest is white plaster. There is a bar to the left, behind which were innumerable shelves of bottles. There were about ten, maybe fifteen tables, which could fit six at a push, and a long table at the end that was filled with more canapes.  
“It’s rather pubbish, isn’t it?” Wanda whispers, leaning up to my ear.  
“I don’t care, look for Bucky.” My eyes sweep the room, trying to identify those broad shoulders or that long dark hair. No luck yet.  
“Come on, rățușcă. I need a drink.” Wanda drags me towards the bar. I guess a bit of liquid courage couldn’t help. At the bar, there is a petite woman with deep red hair. She is wearing a modified version of the waiter’s uniform: a black t-shirt underneath a white blazer. She looked vaguely familiar. Wanda grabs her attention.  
“Hello, welcome to The Food Barn, what would you like to drink?” She smiled, but you got the feeling that it wasn’t entirely genuine.  
“Erm, what cocktails do you have?” Wanda asks, and at this the woman relaxes.  
“Thank god! You are the first person to not order wine, beer or whiskey. I’ll get you the menu.” She dashes off to the other end of the bar to get it, but is delayed by a man who wants another bottle of beer. She does that, and then returns to us.  
“Sorry about that. Builders, eh?” She hands over the menu, and Wanda pores over it.  
“What can I get you, sir?” It takes a moment to realise she’s talking to me.  
“Oh! Just a cider, please. And anyway, call me Steve, Steve Rogers. I own the shop next door.” I extend my hand, which she takes firmly.  
“Natasha Romanov. Bar manager and keeper of the accounts.”  
“Ah, so you’re the owner. I thought you’d be out on the floor making nice.”  
“Oh, no. I’m not the owner. You’ll be wanting James. He’s around here somewhere, making nice as you put it.” She looks to Wanda expectantly.  
“Oh  
She hands us our drinks, before being hailed down at the other end of the bar.  
“Right, operation Up All Night To Get Bucky is go. Find, talk, woo. Well, leave that last one to me.” Wanda nods at me, and we split up. Obviously I have somewhat of a height advantage, but it proves difficult, as I wasn’t exactly focusing on the back of his head earlier.  
I spot a few potential candidates (and attempt to talk to them, bit awkward) before my eyes land on the real deal, and oh.  
He looks practically edible in a suit. The cut of his suit accentuates his broad shoulders and tapering waist. I approach him, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. He turns around mid laugh, and oh god, take me now! His eyes are crinkled at the edges, his teeth shine in the low light of the restaurant. His face lights up as he recognises me.  
“You came!” No, but give it time.  
“Yeah, I was unsure if I was gonna make it, yaknow, ‘cause it’s so out of my way.” I feigned disinterest, looking around, looking bored.  
“Oh, shaddup.” He swats my arm playfully. Thankfully, I don’t seem to have scared him off yet.  
“So...” he starts, sounding nervous and looking around the room distractedly for some reason. That’s unfair, I’m supposed to be the nervous one. “What do you think of the food?”  
“Honestly, it’s a little mediocre. All I can say is I hope this James guy’s paid you in full already. Good job on the interior by the way.” Bucky’s expression is unreadable, staring into the middle distance. I spot Natasha approaching, looking slightly drained.  
“There you are, зефир,” she leans on Bucky’s shoulder, then seems to notice me, “ah, Steve. I see you found James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own, comments and kudos are appreciated. I will try and update every other Sunday, but school is getting busy.
> 
> 'rățușcă' is Romanian for 'duckling'  
> 'зефир' is Russian for 'marshmallow'  
> (at least, that's what Google Translate told me!)


	3. Regrouping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve runs, Wanda comforts, and a plan is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! This chapter is shorter than the others, but I hope to get back on track with these wonderful fools.

“Oh shit.” I breathe, eyes wide and staring between him and Natasha. Bucky/James (what do I call him now?) raises a single, perfect (not the time) eyebrow at me.

“Mediocre?” He parrots, a slight tone of damnation in his voice.

“Well, when I said that, I thought you were the head builder. I was appealing to your … builderiness?” Is that a word?

“So you assumed I was a builder?” When he puts it like that, it sounds so much worse than it does in my head.

“Well, you said the boss sent you to deliver the invitations. And, well, just look at you.” Oh dear, didn’t mean to say that.

“I was being funny! And you’re hardly one to judge a book by its cover.” Bucky (I think I’ll stick with Bucky) is nearly shouting now, and everyone is silently staring at the two men shouting at each other. He has a point. He knows it, I know it, Wanda knows it. There’s only one thing for it.

“Oh, is that the time?” I ask, looking at my bare wrist. I push my way through the crowd, searching for Wanda. I grab her arm as she’s talking to one of the builders.

“Abort, abort, abort!” I panic-whisper in her ear as I pull her along. Once we’re out of the restaurant, she wrenches her arm free and turns on me.

“What the hell was that?” She asks, waving her arms wildly.

“I may have insulted his restaurant and called him a builder.” I say quickly, as I steer her into the hall of my flat.

“ _ What?  _ What happened to wooing him?”

“I can never go back there.” I say gravely, ignoring her but not quite.

“Rubbish. In two years you’ll look back at this moment and laugh.” She holds my face in her hands.

“I did the ‘is that the time’ thing while not wearing a watch.” I moan.

“Again? Dear me!” She facepalms, turning away from me. I walk over to my sofa and slump down, turning the TV on to mindless rubbish. Wanda climbs over the back of the sofa and plops down next to me.

“We’ll sort this. Tomorrow you will go round there with an apology, you will talk things through, and you will restart Operation Up All Night to Get Bucky.”

“His name’s James. How the hell do you get Bucky from James?” I ask to no-one in particular.

“What the fuck!? You didn’t tell me that!” She all-but-screeches in my ear.

“Yeah, Bucky owns the restaurant, he isn’t a builder.”

“But he looks just like one!” She bemoans.

“That’s what I thought. But apparently I shouldn’t just assume these things.” I sigh, and sink further into the sofa, ready for a night of wallowing in self-pity.

“Oh, my poor rățușcă.” She coos, then, like so many nights before, she gets up and puts the coffee machine on.

Once the coffee is made, she resumes her spot next to me, ready to hold me as I wallow for several hours in self-pity, before inevitably swearing off men altogether (a promise that will last until someone hot comes on the TV).

To be quite frank, I never get crushes. Well, at least not on this scale. Well, rarely. Okay, I may fall a little bit in love with any man who smiles at me, but this feels different. Normally, I’ll make light of the situation, crack a few jokes, get slightly drunk (okay very), maybe have a karaoke session with Wanda, and be over the whole thing after the obligatory hangover cloud passes.

“He seemed really nice, too.” I sighed sideways, my head resting on Wanda’s legs, while we watched reruns of, I think, Friends. Job a joke? Literally. Broke? Only emotionally. Love life D.O.A. Harsh, but true.

“I know he did, Steve. Allow him to sleep on it, and try again tomorrow. He obviously likes you, or he wouldn’t have gotten nearly as offended as he apparently did.” Wanda strokes my hair as she has been doing for many years now.

I’m really lucky to have a friend like Wanda. Smart, kind, and always knows what to say. We met at college, freshman year, in an art history seminar. We hit it off immediately, and over the next three years, we went through so much together that it seemed only logical to go into business with her. I had some of my father’s inheritance, the stuff I hadn’t put immediately into savings, and he had said to do something that would make me happy with it, so we started the novelty gift shop. Up until about half a year ago, she had lived with me, but now she lived with her brother Pietro, who had only recently moved to America, so needed help adjusting.

“We almost had a moment, Wand. I was all ready to have a vaguely flirty conversation with him all night. Now I’m gonna have to completely rethink my game-plan.” I sigh in what I hope is a dramatic fashion, before getting up and beginning to pace.

“You, game plan?” Wanda snarks helpfully, probably in shock from my sudden movement, and snarking to help regain composure. Either that, or she’s pointing out a flaw (which she most definitely is).

“I can plan. And what’s more, I can enact a plan.” I defend. “And, even better, I can adapt my plan when the first plan goes wrong.” I nod, psyching myself up.

“Okay, what is your master game plan, Mr Rogers?” Wanda props herself on her elbow on the arm of the sofa.

“Novelty gift ice-breaker/apology, self-deprecating humour and offer services as an on-demand food taster. He won’t be able to resist me.” I stand tall, puffing my chest out proudly.

“Calm down rățușcă, you look like a peacock.” Wanda deadpans.

“You may mock, dear child,” she’s like a few months older than me, but hush, “but Buck will be wooed like he’s never been wooed before.” That’s right, ‘woo’ is back on the menu with a vengeance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are immensely appreciated!


End file.
